


Spinning

by wanderingalonelypath



Series: Tumblr ficlets [16]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Anora is queen, Ballroom Dancing, F/M, after the archdemon, big fancy political ball, this is just an excuse to get everyone dressed up tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:01:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23604979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderingalonelypath/pseuds/wanderingalonelypath
Summary: The Archdemon was dead, her corset was miserably tight, and all the Warden wanted to do was find her assassin and spend the night with him. The ball celebrating her title of 'Hero of Fereldan' seemed determined to prevent that, though.
Relationships: Zevran Arainai/Female Warden
Series: Tumblr ficlets [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1699021
Kudos: 6





	Spinning

She really should have expected it, what with all the politicking taking place after the Archdemon was slain. There were leaders to assuage, the civil war to quell, and reassuring the other countries that yes, the blight was over after only a year, and no Fereldan isn’t a wasteland. What better way to do all three than for Queen Anora to throw a ball celebrating their success?

The Warden sucked in a sharp breath as Leliana tightened the corset strings. “Is this all strictly necessary?” She gritted her teeth and gripped the back of her vanity chair. “Afraid so.” Leliana chirped. She was already clad in her gown, a soft lavender thing that fell off her shoulders and billowed around her legs. She had no doubt Leliana had quite a few knives stashed under that skirt.

“All done!” Leliana tied off the bottom of the corset with a flourish, stepping back to examine her work. The Warden groaned, testing how far she could breathe before being restricted. “Oh, suck it up. There are far worse things to do for an evening.” She remarked, gently lifting the other’s dress off its stand.

The Queen had pulled out all the stops for the Warden’s dress: she called in one of the finest dressmakers from Antiva. Her dress was a deep blue, the same shade as in the Grey Warden insignia. Contrary to Leliana’s dress, her dress conformed to her body, hugging the curve of her hips. There was a slit up one leg for easier walking, for which she was grateful, even though it went up half her thigh. The whole thing was trimmed in Grey Warden silver, and she couldn’t help but think Anora was laying it on a little thick.

With Leliana’s careful maneuvering, She managed to get into the dress and accompanying shoes. Leliana had decided earlier to just leave her hair loose for the ball, for which she was eternally grateful, given the sneak peek she got at the Queen’s complicated hairstyle earlier. It would be a bit irritating to deal with the curls falling in her face all night, but she would manage. She may have helped crown Anora, but she was going to be on her best behavior tonight anyway. Never hurt to be on the good side of a Queen.

After fiddling with her and her hair some more, Leliana stepped back and eyed her up and down. She clapped her hands. “Beautiful!” The Warden smiled back at her. “Thanks.” 

“I’m sure Zevran will think so as well.” Leliana nudged the Warden with her elbow, grinning. She rolled her eyes at Leliana’s antics, holding the door of hers and Zev’s chamber open. “Why did she stick me on the other end of the castle?” She grumble and Leliana giggled. “Where is Zevran, anyway?” She asked. “I sent him and all the boys to Alistair’s rooms to get ready. Zevran is the only one who knows how to put on finery.” 

The two shared a giggle as they rounded another corner, beginning to encounter the fringes of the ball guests. They grew quiet at the sight of her, and she imagined this was the desired effect of Anora’s elaborate dress. They would all know who she was as soon as they saw her. She tried to contain her sigh. 

“Stand tall now, Hero of Fereldan” Leliana teased, and the Hero in question stopped slouching. Teasing though it may be, she still wanted those nobles to know how serious she was. She had been underestimated her entire life; it was about time these people knew what they were dealing with.

They glided through the crowd of foreign visitors; she couldn’t immediately recognize any of the styles, but she guessed the brighter colors leaned towards Orlesiens and the tighter dressers, like her own, were most likely Antivan. “Diverse crowd.” She muttered to Leliana.

As they got closer to the main ballroom, the crowd thickened, and the Warden noticed a subtle shift in Leliana’s posture. She realized suddenly why Leliana insisted on helping her dress and walking with her. Keeping up her neutral facade, she gripped Leliana’s sleeve and tugged her closer sharply. “You’re my bodyguard?” She hissed as they approached the ballroom doors. 

The bard merely smiled charmingly at a few nearby nobles.

“You needed one. You just saved the whole world from a Blight that hadn’t even begun. You handpicked the new Queen of Fereldan. You’re a political target, whether you realize it or not.” Leliana whispered to her as they walked in. The throne room was packed with the elite of the elite: The highest-ranking lords in Fereldan and representatives of many different countries, as Leliana told her.

The Queen would be doing most of the work tonight, and she thanked the Maker again for Alistair denying the Kingship. She loved her brother in arms and he was a fantastic leader: on the battlefield. He would be just as out of depth here as she is. Her only role tonight would be to accept praise and answer a few questions about the treaties she formed, and after mingling a bit, she would sneak off with Zevran and have their own party.

Speaking of her love, where is he? She scanned the nobles and servants assembled, but she caught no sight of her lover. “Where’s Zevran?” She whispered to her babysitter, though Leliana would bristle at being called such. “Oh no, you are going to play the conquering hero tonight. No sneaking off with your assassin until you’ve kissed a few babies.” Leliana stated firmly, leading her towards the throne.

The Warden sucked in air. “I have to kiss babies?” The bard gave her a look that was decidedly unamused. She sighed and resigned herself to her fate; there was no point in arguing with Leliana when she was working. She managed to snag a glass of (hopefully) some sort of alcohol before she was dragged away.

After hours of shaking hands and recounting, once again, the tale of Branka and the Anvil, she finally managed to slip away from the conversation. She caught the amused glint in Anora’s eye as she faded into the crowd, and she was grateful they were on good terms. 

The Warden immediately began her search for Zevran, intent on dragging him back to their chambers and having the rest of the night alone. She hated large crowds like this, especially when she couldn’t tell if they wanted to kiss her feet or kill her. 

She came across the rest of her party, all in various states of drunkenness, and they had no idea where he had gone. After checking back with Leliana to see if she had seen him, she finally let out a frustrated groan. Maybe he left early? But why would he leave without her? He wouldn’t, would he?

A pair of sinewy arms slipped around her waist from behind, pulling her back against a familiar chest. “Amor, I have been looking for you all evening,” Zevran whispered into her ear. She smiled, her shoulders finally relaxing. She had come to find his mere presence around her comforting. Slipping out of his arms to turn around, she was paralyzed.

Zevran looked good in almost anything. That was established when Alistair bet him 15 silver he wouldn’t wear a dress. Let’s just say he got the money and they had an extra-spicy night in bed. She had seen him in his armor, his nightclothes, in his nude, but she had never seen him in tailored finery.

It had generally the same design scheme as most of the other men, detailed tunic and pants. In contrast to the vibrant purples and greens of most of the nobles, Zevran’s outfit was charcoal with gold accents, lining the sleeves and seams of his pants. The gold went so will his dusky skin she almost regretted wanting to rip it off.

It appeared he was having the same thoughts about her; he swiftly pulled her back against him, making them flush from head to toe. “Amor, you look positively delicious.” He whispered into her ear, gracefully starting them in a waltz. “I could say the same to you. Those clothes look so well on you, but I bet they would look so much better strewn across our floor.” She hummed back, hand snaking around his neck as he dipped her.

“I quite like that word. Our.”

She smiled as they spun around the room.


End file.
